


Between the Lines

by CeruleanMusings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Dyscalculia, Enemies to Friends, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Secrets, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Sabrina Spellman cameo, Season/Series 02, Tutoring, jealous ex boyfriend, ships undecided as of now, though i'm leaning towards Toni/OC, tiny crossover with Chilling Adventures of Sabrina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanMusings/pseuds/CeruleanMusings
Summary: She's a certified geek. He's a gang member. She wants to pad her college applications. He just wants to piss Reggie off. What was supposed to be simple tutoring sessions teaches Wynn and Sweet Pea more about themselves and each other than they ever could have imagined.





	Between the Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts right when the Southside Serpents get transferred to Riverdale High but after that it doesn't follow the show plot, the rest of this is my own creation. So it's a bit of a season 2 AU.

 

 

Wynn Tate heard the door to the break room creak open and her body stiffened, the cookie in her hand halfway to her mouth. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be back there, not at a time when the front of the house was so busy, but she couldn’t help it. She could hear her stomach growling over the din of the diners chatting away. What kind of customer service was that? Not the good kind, she’d reasoned to herself, so she slipped away for a second. She hadn’t expected anyone else to come in so soon. And yet here she was—

“ _Busted!_ ” At the singsong-y trill, Wynn’s shoulders fell, and she stood from her hunched over position, defiantly taking a bite of the forbidden treat. “Now now, even _you_ know we can’t eat on the job, Tate.”

“Oh, stuff it, Sabrina,” Wynn mumbled around the treat, “it’s not _my_ fault you chose to bring these things in when I’m working a double.” She waved the chocolate chip cookie around, bringing attention to it. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed as the treat practically melted into her mouth.

Sabrina grinned. “I had to make my last day special.”

“This is more like rubbing salt in the wound. First you leave me—thanks for that, by the way—and then you do it by bringing your cookies.” Wynn shook her head as she took another bite. “Damn, what’re _in_ these things?”

“Magic,” Sabrina said with a simple shrug.

When Wynn threw a look her way she laughed and waved her off. “Special recipe, that’s all! I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

“You know, I can get Pop to buy this recipe. Put the cookies on the menu and give you a cut of course.”

“That’s not going to get me to stay here, you know.” Sabrina walked over to the mirror by the back door and leaned towards it, checking her makeup Wynn supposed. Sabrina had the enigmatic way of always looking put together despite working a double shift. But Wynn wouldn’t complain; Sabrina was one of their best servers by far. “School’s starting up again and it’s a bit of a drive from here to Greendale.”

“Don’t remind me.” Wynn popped the last bit of cookie into her mouth and rubbed excess crumbs off onto her apron. She chewed as she thought to the upcoming semester. The back half of Sophomore year was just around the corner and, after everything that had gone on the previous semester, she had been looking forward to it. They could all now move on and start the new year fresh. But, still, the spark of excitement she once felt had barely covered the niggle of uncertainty that grew in the pit of her stomach. After all, after everything that happened, how could they just go back to being normal? _Could_ they even be normal? “Whatever happened to the days where the world was at our fingertips and we could have whatever we wanted?”

“It dried up when the prospect of getting jobs bloomed on the horizon,” Sabrina replied.

Wynn stuck her tongue out at Sabrina’s reflection which was followed by a teasing smile. “How poetic.”

“Easy for you to say. You just walked into this job. Being the owner’s granddaughter has it’s perks.” Sabrina met Wynn’s eyes in the mirror. She lifted one of her eyebrows, speaking volumes with the one gesture alone.

Wynn brushed a hand against her nose and cleared her throat. No one may say it aloud to her face, but she knew of the undercurrent of disdain that was pointed towards her. She couldn’t help being Pop’s granddaughter as much as she couldn’t help being left handed or topping off at an annoying 5’3”. Perhaps it was a tiny bit easier for her to get a serving position at the diner, but she’d basically grown up within it’s neon embrace, it only made sense for her to work there. Her family built Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe and aided in it thriving for over eighty years. She knew the ins and outs of the diner, better than anyone, and felt pride working within its walls and carrying on the Tate name. That didn’t mean she didn’t work as hard as they did; in fact, it made her work harder. To prove that she could handle the business when it finally was passed down to her. As much as she had built up a wall towards the hearsay, sometimes it found its way through the cracks.

Sabrina clicked her tongue and turned away from the mirror, flashing a smile over at Wynn. Wynn managed a small smile of her own. “I’m just teasing, Wynn. We all know Pop is a fair man.” She sighed, clasping her hands together. “In fact, he’s been more than fair. I’m going to miss working here. Truly.”

“You can always come back on long breaks or the weekends. If you need the extra money, I mean. Pop will have you back on in a heartbeat,” Wynn said.

“I know. But I need to get something in Greendale; commuting all the time is beginning to be a drag. A local soda shop is hiring, I think.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp, Wynn slapped a hand to her chest. “You _traitor!_ ”

Sabrina winked. “Keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

“ _Everything’s_ interesting when you’re around, Spellman.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Sabrina blew a kiss Wynn’s way and flounced out of the room.

Wynn chuckled, shaking her head, and took up Sabrina’s previous position at the mirror. She fixed her ponytail, smoothed a few of the wrinkles out of her uniform, dotted with a few bits of food and spilled drinks, and snuck a glance at her phone. She swiped aside a few notifications from Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, checked her podcast statistics, and then went through her texts. She made mental notes to text her mother, Midge, and Valerie back later and, right when she was about to turn off her phone, it buzzed in her hand indicating a new message.

Her lips pressed together into a line and her heart thudded painfully in her chest when she read the contact. She stared down at the name, Reggie Mantle, her thumb hovering over the unopened text. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and pushed out a shaky breath. It was just another in a list of texts she hadn’t bothered to reply to but this one came after a few weeks of radio silence. She was certain he’d gotten the point by now, understood the firm reasoning behind her silence, but then again this was Reggie. He was aggressive in all aspects of her life. She hummed. She used to like that about him.

The back door burst open again and she hastily shoved her phone back into her pocket as she spotted Grant, the busser, rushing by on his way to the kitchen. He wore a haggard expression on his face that seemed to match the urgency of his footsteps. “There you are! Get back out there, people are waiting!”

“Right, right, sorry. Was just…taking a breather.” Wynn rubbed a hand across her face and hurried out of the backroom, uttering a quick, “Thank you” to Grant as she passed. Not that he knew she was thankful for his appearance or else she would have done something she would regret. Like replying to Reggie’s text. That would’ve been a disaster.

Putting her customer service face back on, Wynn pushed through the employee door and headed straight into the heart of the diner, letting the hustle and bustle and lively atmosphere of the front of house to wash over her. A few people danced to the swing music pouring out of the jukebox, people sitting on the bar stools laughed whilst simultaneously raising glasses in the air, and the booths were packed with her Riverdale High peers, celebrating their last day of freedom with milkshakes as far as the eye can see. Wynn took in the sight for a moment, took in the jubilation and the excitement of one last night of debauchery and tucked it away for later.

“Order up, Wynn,” Pop said from the window. As Wynn approached he lowered his voice and added, “Did you save one for me?”

Panic flashed across Wynn’s face for a second and then she kicked herself. Even so, she did her best to rearrange her facial features as she asked, “Er…save what?” She reached for the serving tray that he held and he backed it away from her reach.

“You know chocolate chip is my favorite,” he continued, winking at her, “and that I have a Cookie Monster for a granddaughter.”

Wynn held up her hands. “Hey, blame Nona for that one. If she didn’t bake so much I might actually have a healthy diet right now. She’s an enabler.”

“Yeah. She was a real spark plug, wasn’t she?” At the wistful sigh that came whistling out of Pop, Wynn’s mouth twisted to the side. This was a forbidden topic, they both knew. It was best to change it now before they both regretted it.

“Don’t worry, I left you the biggest one. I’m sure Sabrina had that one for you in mind,” Wynn said, taking the tray, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. As she turned with the tray she caught Sabrina’s eye as she walked by with a table’s check. Wynn’s smile immediately faded. She probably should have been reprimanded for disappearing off the floor; everyone else would have.

Hefting the tray and balancing it on her palm, she expertly walked through the crowded diner and took it to the back where a few members of the Riverdale High wrestling team had gathered. Judging by the assortment of food she was delivering to them they were taking their pre-season carb load up seriously. In fact, if she remembered correctly, they had a shot at state this year.

“Here ya go, guys. I got an Adam and Eve on a raft, a Bloodhound in the hay, a blue plate special, two cheeseburgers with onions, two chicken breasts high and dry, eggs benedict, a smoked pastrami sandwich annnnddd…a side of extra fries,” Wynn rattled off the top of her head as she set each plate down on any space the table could offer. “Would that be all for you?”

“I mean, we got our fries, now all we’re just missing is the shake,” one of the wrestlers said, throwing a smirk her way.

“Mmm.” Wynn allowed a tight smile to appear as she propped the serving tray against her hip. “You wouldn’t want me shaking anything on you, Chuck.”

“I dunno. I got a joystick that wouldn’t mind getting your hands on it,” Chuck replied, his words slightly jostled from the elbows he received form his snickering goons.

“ _Enticing_ but, considering it no doubt a lot of personal wear and tear, I’m not sure that I want to handle something that can’t… _perform_ up to standards.” At the chorus of _ooohs_ that cycled around the table at Chuck Clayton’s sour face, Wynn stood up straight and all but chirped, “Enjoy your heart attacks.”

Their boyish ribbing blended into the background as she went through the rounds, picking up dirty dishes, serving tables, greeting new diners, and delivering checks. She greeted customers with a wide smile and kept a pep in her step, even when a little kid puked on her shoes because his eyes were bigger than his stomach and the mega sundae was his siren call. Another long, fabulous night at Pop’s.

Her feet ached and she was sure she was beginning to smell like old grease and stale coffee but she pushed through. Every extra dollar she made was a dollar towards helping the A.V. Club get better equipment. Riverdale High’s vintage aesthetic was pleasing to the eye but their gear could use a little upgrade. Unsurprisingly the school’s treasury didn’t find her club to be high on their list of priorities, amongst others, and so she found sometimes that doing things herself was the best way to make change. She wasn’t keen on relying on others for help. Her grandfather and mother didn’t raise her that way.

The bell above the door jingled, snapping Wynn out of her autopilot tread of pouring coffee into a mug. The steam curled up and brushed against her face, giving her the extra shot of energy she needed. She glanced towards the door, already mentally planning a place to put the customers, when she stilled and a cold chill ran down her spine.

Moose Mason and Midge Klump walked in through the door, hand in hand, big smiles on their faces as they spoke about something. She couldn’t quite hear over the hard thumps of her beating heart. Her eyes darted between them and the doorway, waiting for it to open once more, waiting for them to be joined by the last addition to their trio. Her hand trembled in anticipation. A steam of hot coffee flowed over the mug’s rim and onto the man’s thumb. The customer jerked his hand back.

 _Shit!_ Her first spill in months and it all had to do with someone that wasn’t even there. Someone who still had an annoyingly strong hold on her. _Way to go, Wynn. That’s coming right out of your tip_. “I’m sorry, I’ll go get you a towel,” she stammered, heat flooding her face. She rushed away, grabbed a stack of napkins, and came back, apologizing profusely as she glanced at the door every now and then. Just to be safe. Just to be sure…

“He’s not here.” Moose calling over the interspersed conversations made her head whip up.

Wynn shot a quick “please let me know if you need anything else” to the man before hurrying over to the table. A burst of excitement shot through her when she got close to the table and she dropped into the seat next to Midge, throwing her arms around the girl. “Hey Smidge!” She greeted her friend with a big hug.

“Hey Schwynn!” Midge’s smile faltered slightly as she leaned forward and sniffed the air around her.

“Oh, I know, I smell like the grease trap. It’s been a long day,” Wynn said with a little sigh. She turned her eyes over to Moose and asked as nonchalantly as she could, “What’d you say?”

“I said he’s not here,” Moose replied. “Reggie. That’s who you were trying to clock at the door, right? He’s not here.”

“Oh.” Wynn leaned back in the seat, her shoulders dropping from her ears as relief washed through her. _Good_. She didn’t want to deal with him anyway. But then she grunted and the relief switched over to annoyance. Moose and Reggie were attached at the hip, the only way Reggie wasn’t with them was because he was with someone else. Because _of course_ he was, she reasoned. Reggie Mantle always had someone to fall back on when he. She scoffed. “What’s that matter to me?”

“You tell me.” Moose raised his eyebrows.

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay then.”

“ _It doesn’t._ ”

Moose laughed. “Someone’s high strung.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice and said, “I got a little bit of the jangle left over if you want to, uh, smooth things out.”

Wynn turned a cutting stare his way. “Really?”

“Moose!” The thud underneath the table following Midge’s admonishing utterance signaled to Wynn that he had been reprimanded. Judging by the way he winced and leaned down beneath the table, he had been reprimanded _hard._ Wynn smiled. Even after everything that went down that turned their squad into a trio, Midge still had her back.

“What was that—ohh. Right. Sorry, Wynn, I forgot.” Moose’s sheepish smile did little to curb’s Wynn’s disdain.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky,” she stated. Because she could never forget the way that Reggie betrayed her, lied to her, hurt her. And in her family’s business, of all places! “Anyway, what brings you guys out here.”

“I have your present!” Midge singsonged, pulling a small wrapped gift out of a bag. “It’s from me and Moose. We saw it and I immediately thought of you.” She clapped her hands together in excitement and kicked her legs beneath the table. Moose looked at her with a fond smile.

“Aww, girl, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Wynn said, applying modest tones to her words despite frantically tearing the wrapping paper to shreds in her haste to open the square-shaped box. She lifted the lid and beamed at the silver ring that stared back at her, a bumblebee and yellow honeycomb hexagons spanned the top and glittered beneath the neon lights. “Thanks, guys, I love it!” She slipped the ring onto her finger and admired it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you guys anything yet. Money’s been kinda tight lately.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tate,” Moose said with a wave of his hand. “We know you’re good for it. You can always pay us back in milkshakes. Or some of Pop’s blackberry pie if there’s any left.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his stomach.

“You’re in luck. There are some slices with your names on them,” Wynn said as she got back to her feet. She groaned beneath her breath at the ache in her feet and back and let out a slow breath. “You plan on staying long?”

“Schwynn.” Midge put her hand to Wynn’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. Wynn licked her lips and waited. Midge slipped her hand down and grasped Wynn’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’s just us. We promise. We told Reggie not to come.”

Wynn nodded and squeezed Midge’s hand back. “Thank you.”

“But, um…” Midge stole a glance at Moose who made himself busy reading a package of sweetener. A little too closely considering there was a grand total of about seven words on its bright pink wrapping. “Maybe when school starts back up we can have lunch together. All of us. Just like old times?”

Wynn hummed. _Old times._ Back when she lived from football game to football game, basketball game to basketball game, when she was up at all hours gabbing away on the phone, being the dutiful girlfriend of a member of the jock squad, dropping everything and running to Reggie’s beck and call. Back when she put all her faith and trust into someone only to have it all come crashing down and left her scrambling to remember who she was.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I might have to tutor again,” Wynn said. By which she meant she would definitely pick up another tutoring student.

“Tutor who? I don’t need your help anymore,” Moose pointed out.

“Someone else, then. It’ll be good for college applications anyway. They like consistency.”

“I think you’re the only one worried about college right now.”

 _That’s because I’m the only one who has to worry about college right now._ But Wynn didn’t dare speak those words aloud. Because they didn’t get it, they wouldn’t get it, and they couldn’t get it. She kept a tight-lipped smile and said she’d get their pie right away, turning to head to the back, her hand slipping out of Midge’s grasp.

She twisted the ring on her finger as she headed to the back and shout out the order. The thought was appreciated but she knew who was really behind the gift. Midge and Moose may have known the ins and outs of her relationship with Reggie, but they didn’t know about honeybees.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, swiped it open, and opened up her text messages. The indicator next to Reggie’s name still lit up as an unread message. Her thumb hovered over the button. Should she open it? She’d been going strong with being unresponsive for a while now. Well, it couldn’t hurt to at least see what he had to say… Making up her mind, she tapped the message and waited for it to open up. One word stared back at her.

**Hey**

Her shoulders shook once with a brief, restrained laugh. Pushing a sigh out of her nose, she let her thumbs compose a reply before she could change her mind. Or think things through. Or stop herself, like she would have done before Midge and Moose came in.

**…hey**

She put her phone back into the pocket of her apron and had only managed to make it behind the counter when it buzzed again. She whipped it out, tapping open Reggie’s newest message:

**:)**

She drummed her fingers against the back of her phone, tucked her curly hair behind her ear, and then put her phone away.

 

**« »    « »    « »**

 

The steady _thump thump thump_ of her mother’s forearm crutches signaled Wynn that her mom was on the move. She mentally slapped herself for causing enough noise for her mother to be awake. She’d planned on slipping out the door before her mother could get up. Her mother needed her rest. The fatigue had been hitting her hard lately. Not that Pop or her mother would ever say so to her face, but Wynn knew. She could always tell.

“You’re up early,” Delilah Tate noted as she entered the kitchen.

“So are you,” Wynn noted and then licked a glob of mayonnaise off her thumb. She tossed the knife she was using into the sink, closed her sandwich, and shoved it into a waiting Ziploc bag. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Yes, well, it’s hard to stay asleep when your legs feel like pin cushions,” Delilah replied. She set her crutches against the round kitchen table and eased herself into a chair. Wynn noticed the way her mother’s face scrunched up in a wince and eased a second later, as if the pain didn’t exist. Wishful thinking.

“I want to head in early to catch Principal Weatherbee before school starts. Talk to him about the A.V. Club and see if we can get some better equipment.” Wynn threw an apple and granola bar into a brown paper bag and followed it up with her sandwich. “The audio for the pep rallies and variety shows barely make the cut and, sooner or later, I’m gonna have Jo-Jo on my ass about it. Girl has claws and I’m not in the mood to be on the end of them. _Plus_ ”—she wiped down the counter with a sponge, tossing the leftover crumbs into the nearby trashcan and then moved a plate of toast and eggs onto the table in front of her mother—“I want to see if I can use the extra time to finish recording the last part of my podcast. The episode should have been up yesterday, but I got delayed.”

“I told you you’ve been workin’ at the diner too much, baby,” Delilah said and took a bite of toast. Loose crumbs fell off the piece of toast due to Delilah’s trembling hand. Wynn and Delilah both ignored it.

Wynn sighed. “It’s my job, Momma.”

“Your job is to be a kid.”

Wynn bit her lip. Maybe she’d know how to be a kid if she didn’t have to be the parent. If she didn’t have to worry about if today would be the day their lights would turn off, if their water would be shut off, how much she needed to make in tips to add to her college fund while also having pocket money on the side, if her mother took her pills, if Pop was getting enough sleep between shifts. Worries plagued her, followed her around like a black cloud. Worries pushed her, drove her, fanned her flames and made her want to be the best Wynn she could be. Because she had to be the best; with “win” in her name, she couldn’t lose. She had too much at stake.

“Just eat, Momma.” Wynn went over to the phone and dialed a number that she knew by heart. It only took a few rings for the other line to be picked up.

“Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, Pop speaking.”

Just like beams of sunshine breaking through a wall of clouds, Pop’s voice put a smile on Wynn’s face and gave her back her pep. (She was not a morning person, especially when said morning came about four hours after a long shift). “Hey Poppy, I got your breakfast made. It’s in the fridge, eat it when you get in before you get some sleep this time. Momma’s up and I already prepared her breakfast and lunch. She said she was feeling pins and needles in her legs again”—as she spoke she reached up into a cabinet, pulled down a bottle of pills, and set it in front of Delilah—“I brought in the newspaper and I’m putting the bills in the mailbox on my way out. I just wanted to let you know I’m heading into school early to talk to Principal Weatherbee.”

“There’s that initiative. I don’t know where you got it from, certainly not me,” Pop said with his rumbling laugh.

“I got it from all the Pops before you,” Wynn stated, pride wrapped around her words. “And I got it from _you too_. And I got it from Momma. What can I say, you raised a badass family Poppy.”

“Hey now! I know I didn’t teach you that language!”

Wynn laughed. “You raised a rad or, dare I say _groovy_ , family, then.” Softening her tone she added, “I’m proud of you, in case I don’t tell you often enough.”

“I’m proud of you too, Wynner. And you tell me enough to keep my spirits lifted.” He hummed. “God blessed me with a wonderful family. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Well, I’m gonna let you get back to work, Mr. Lucky Man. _Please_ get some sleep later, okay? The rush should be slower during the day. I’m sure Evan can hold down the fort.”

“Yes ma’am. I love you, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too.”

Wynn hung up the phone and pushed her hands through her frustratingly unruly hair and quickly lifted it to a messy bun atop of her head. “Did you take one?” she addressed Delilah. Delilah side-eyed her as she downed a glass of water. Wynn’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it; she didn’t even notice her mother had gotten up. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t _mother_ me like that. Last I checked, _I_ was the one in labor with you for eighteen hours,” Delilah replied.

Wynn laughed. “That’s always your argument, isn’t it? Sorry I caused you _so_ much pain!”

“Oh the pain was expected. It’s the gray hair that I’m having a problem with.” Delilah patted her hair to make a point.

“Silver foxes are in, donchaknow?”

“I’m not old enough to be a fox, let alone a cougar.” Delilah winked. “ _Vixen_ maybe.”

“Yeah, y’still got it Momma.” Wynn glanced at the cat clock on the wall, eyes shifting with every swish of its tail. “Okay, I _really_ have to go. Text me if you need anything. I can come back on my free period or at lunch. I left my schedule on the fridge for school, for Pop’s, and my extracurriculars and—”

Delilah held up her hand, effectively stopping Wynn from talking. “I’m not going to fall apart when you’re not here. I love you, Wynn, but stop worrying about me. Let me worry about you.”

Wynn swallowed and nodded. “Right, yeah, right. Sorry. I just…” Her words trailed off and she clicked her tongue. She grabbed her lunch and her school bag off the counter. She brushed past the table, hesitated, and then went back, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“Have a good day, baby,” Delilah said, gently caressing Wynn’s cheek.

Wynn rushed to the front door, pausing to stomp her feet into her trusty floral doc martens, and left the Tate home, slamming the door behind her. She bounded down the stairs, swinging her crossbody bag over her shoulder and picked up her pastel blue Schwinn bike that lay on its side, spokes pointing up to the sky.

She lifted it upwards, jumped on, and took off towards Riverdale High. The leftover bits of snow crunched beneath her tires and the crisp, cool wind whipped her face and stung her eyes but she didn’t mind. She lived for mornings like this, when everything was quiet, still, sleeping. When the day was new, before the anxieties and frustrations that came with being a teenager stained the clean slate.

It wasn’t long before she rolled onto the Riverdale High campus. She slid her bike into the rack, locked it, and brushed grease off her hands. Looking up, she spotted the back of Principal Weatherbee’s signature tweed jacket, elbow pads and all.

“Principal Weatherbee— _wait!_ ”

He wheeled around on his heel, door to the school halfway open. She saw him smile as she rushed up the front steps, eager to reach his side. “Ah, Wynona Tate—”

“ _Wynn_ , Principal Weatherbee, please.” She cleared her throat. “I prefer Wynn.”

“Yes, of course. In fact, Ms. Tate, you’re just the person I was hoping to see.”

“I was hoping to see you too, Principal Weatherbee.” She stepped into the school, getting hit by the distinct scent of rubber erasers and lemon Pine-sol. “It’s about clubs—”

“Don’t worry about the clubs, Ms. Tate. I know we’ll be a little overcrowded in the upcoming weeks but I’m sure the turnout will better than you can even imagine.”

Wait, _what?_ Wynn stopped walking, nearly crashing into the door of the front offices that Principal Weatherbee had let start to close behind him. She sidestepped the door, slipping in, briefly saying hi to Ms. Phillips at the front desk and followed Principal Weatherbee into his office. He set his briefcase down in his chair and then went to the windows, sliding open the blinds.

“Overcrowded?” Wynn repeated.

“Yes.” Principal Weatherbee turned away from the window and looked at her, hands clasped. “I was going to make the announcement later but, the long and short of it is that Southside High is closing down. Effective immediately.”

“Whoa, what!?” Wynn cried out, eyes widening.

“Yes. We’re taking in some of the student body so, as I said, it will be a little overcrowded here until we get settled. Speaking of settled, that’s where you come in, Ms. Tate.”

Wynn blinked rapidly, waiting to process the information that was thrown at her. Her fingers twitched by her sides, the tips sparking like livewires with pins and needles. Her brain churned, and thoughts crashed around like raging waves. This was historic, she could slip it onto the end of her podcast episode. A Southside High and Riverdale High merger? Her listeners would go through the _roof_ with that information alone. And then it clicked. Riverdale High and Southside High were _merging_. Was she the first to know about it? What a scoop! She moved to whip out her phone but stopped when Principal Weatherbee’s clearing of his throat stopped her.

“Erm…sorry, sir.” She sheepishly put her phone away and clasped her hands together. “What were you saying?”

“I expect you to give this your full and undivided attention, Ms. Tate, because this is of the utmost importance,” Principal Weatherbee stated. All traces of her smile left her face and she nodded. “I have spoken with the former principal at Southside High. It seems that a few of their students are falling a bit behind in their studies. I am aware that math is one of your best subjects”—he paused when Wynn grinned and made finger-guns in his direction—"I am seeking your expertise in aiding a few of the Southside High students that are coming in to raise their grades.”

“Yeah?” Wynn lifted her bag higher on her shoulder and then corrected herself when his eyes cut her. “I mean, are you sure? Cheryl’s held a 4.0 since she pranced out of the womb, surely she’s more qualified.”

“She may have a stellar GPA but you have a more…empathetic approach to people and their plights.”

“You mean I’m less of a man-eater,” Wynn decoded. “I mean, I’d love to, but I already have soccer coming up and working at Pop’s and yearbook and my podcast. Oh, and the A.V. Club, which I wanted to speak to you about—”

“While I admire your propensity to keep yourself engaged in a plethora of activities—”

Wynn shrugged. “Yes, well, it looks good on college applications and you and I both know my sort needs an extra leg up to even get in the same door as my peers.”

Principal Weatherbee nodded. “Exactly. Some of the students from Southside High have an even lower chance of even seeing next-level education on the horizon. That is where you come in. If there is anyone who understands the upcoming struggle, it’s you.”

Wynn’s eyebrow twitched. She knew a low blow when she saw one but he was a smart man and he struck gold while barely lifting a finger. He was good. “You’re really speakin’ to my heart, Weatherbee.”

“In these times, it’s nice to know someone still has one.”

Her mouth twisted to the side and she gazed past him, out the window, out to the Riverdale High campus. Her bike stood out against the pale greens, browns, and grays that washed out their dreary landscape. Cars started to swing into the circle drive, parents dropping off students, as others milled in from down the street and parked their own.

Her breath hitched at the sight of a black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle and then stuttered outwards when Reggie stepped out of it, beaming as he gazed up at the school. His eyes rested on the office windows and Wynn immediately turned away, just in case he’d seen her. Her mind reeled back to the conversation she had with Moose and Midge at Pop’s just two days ago.

_Maybe when school starts back up we can have lunch together. All of us. Just like old times?_

Yeah, and maybe she’d have a lobotomy. Anything than having to subject herself to lunch with her ex-boyfriend.

“You know what? I’m in.” Wynn held Principal Weatherbee’s gaze and nodded once, letting him know she was serious. “I’ll tutor anyone you think needs help. Send them my way. I can give up some of my lunch periods.”

“I think you’ve made the right decision, Ms. Tate. I’ll pass your information onto any troubling students.” Principal Weatherbee reached out and somewhat awkwardly patted Wynn on the shoulder, as if he wasn’t sure he were allowed to. “It’s nice to know I can count on you.” He lowered his hand. “Now, you better get ready for class. And Ms. Tate? Don’t speak a word of this to anyone. I’ll be making an announcement accordingly.”

Wynn gave Principal Weatherbee a two-fingered salute and left the office, making a beeline for the woodshop behind the school stage. If she were lucky she’d have enough time to record the ending of her podcast. She had a lot to pick apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think? It's my first foray into a longer story in the Riverdale fandom and, like most people, I became interested in the Southside Serpents from the get-go (mainly for Toni because she's a badass babe.) Come to find that the show still doesn't really flesh them out so I decided to do it myself. Now, this story, while showcasing my OC, isn't technically her main story. I am writing another one for her called Runaway Train that delves more into her and how the events of season 2 shake up her world, just so there's no confusion. Anyway! Please let me know what you think about Wynn, the story, the Sabrina cameo, anything! Constructive criticism is welcomed.
> 
> ~Musings


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